


Troubled Negotiations

by Revasnaslan



Series: Perfect Disaster AU [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Asshole Alteans, Implied/Referenced Sex, Political Alliances, Secret Relationship, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 23:09:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20379664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revasnaslan/pseuds/Revasnaslan
Summary: After many centuries of tense relations between the Galra and Nalquodians, an opportunity presents itself in the form of peace talks. Although Prince Zarkon of Daibazaal doesn’t believe he is the best choice to lead the delegation, his mother, the Emperor, is confident in his ability—as is his personal bodyguard and secret partner, Kolivan. So, Zarkon is sent along with a small delegation of representatives from the Royal Council in order to try and broker peace. Upon arriving, however, the negotiations end up being much more difficult than he could have anticipated.





	Troubled Negotiations

Zarkon grunted as he felt something hit him over the head. It was soft, thankfully, but it also chased away whatever chance at returning to sleep he had. Grumbling softly to himself, he lifted his head and looked around his room sleepily, trying to find the culprit. Almost immediately, his gaze found Kolivan, who was standing at the edge of his bed, leaning over him. They were already dressed for the day in the armor of the Royal Guard and the accompanying overtunic that denoted their high rank. 

And then he noticed the pillow they were holding in their arms that must’ve been what hit him over the head.

Kolivan’s ears twitched in amusement as a slight smile played on their lips. “Sweet dreams, Your Highness?” they asked in an innocent tone, cocking their head to the side.

Zarkon shot them a half-hearted glare—which only seemed to amuse them more, as they actually turned away, chuckling softly as they went. Propping himself up on his elbows, Zarkon looked out the nearby window. It was still early, perhaps an hour after first light. In the distance, the sun could just barely be seen creeping over the top of the Devon Mountains. With a heavy sigh, Zarkon flopped back down on the bed.

“The sun isn’t even over the the mountains, Kolivan…” he grumbled, eyes drawn to the shimmering of their blade in the low light.

Kolivan half-turned, head still tilted. “Well, the Empire isn’t going to wait for you to finish your beauty sleep.”

“ _ Well _ , I’m not the Emperor,” Zarkon reminded them, and this time when they tossed the pillow at him, he was awake enough to dodge it, nearly tumbling off his bed as a result. “And it’s a good thing I’m not too,” he managed to say, fighting—and failing miserably—to keep his amusement at bay. “I have a feeling that counts as insubordination.”

Unlike him, Kolivan was much better at keeping their emotions hidden, although Zarkon did notice the slightest twitch at the tips of their fluffy white ears. “You weren’t waking up, I had to try an alternative method…” they said, giving a nonchalant shrug. However, there was a mischievous twinkle in their eyes. “You’re just lucky I didn’t flip the mattress.”

Zarkon chuckled softly, even though that was not an empty threat. Nevertheless, he stretched out until he shoulders gave a satisfying pop. “Why do I need to be up so damn early anyway?” he asked.

“Her Majesty requested your presence by noon,” Kolivan said, although it didn’t sound like they knew much more than that.

Zarkon couldn’t be certain why his mother would have been asking for him either, although he had a suspicion. He had probably done something he wasn’t supposed to do, which was not an uncommon occurrence, at least where the Royal Council was involved. The alternative was that she intended to send him on yet another trip to one of the many provinces across Daibazaal in an attempt to hone his diplomacy skills. At least, that was what she claimed. He suspected she was hoping he’d finally meet a potential life partner.

He glanced back at Kolivan again and found that they were watching him a fond head tilt and a soft smile playing on their lips. His gaze moved slowly down to the shimmering ornament that was fastened at the end of their braid. It was a small piece of jewelry, silver metal with dark purple gemstones that matched Kolivan’s irises perfectly. His gift to them that made it clear to outside observers that they were being courted by  _ someone _ , even if nobody besides himself and Kolivan knew where the ornament had come from. 

As painful as it was to keep their relationship a secret, for the time being it was for the best. Perhaps in the future, they’d be able to be more open about their relationship, but for now… 

Sighing, Zarkon rubbed his hand over his face as he flopped back down on his bed. “If the meeting isn’t until noon, why are you waking me up now?”

“Well, I figured we could take a walk before that,” Kolivan said and Zarkon peeked up at them again. They stared back, sill smiling as their ears twitched again. Eagerly this time. “In the gardens?”

The very mention of the gardens cause Zarkon to sit up in bed again. His entire body perked up as if he was an overexcited cub rather than grown adult. “Well, it has been a while since we walked there, hasn’t?” he asked before eagerly rolling out of bed.

—

As they made their way down to the gardens, Zarkon noticed how there were fewer guards on patrol than there had been in the recent weeks. As his personal guard, Kolivan never strayed far from his side, but when dignitaries and members of the Royal Council visited for long periods of time, the number of patrols increased to match the need for heightened security. Sometimes the visitors even received temporary guards, assuming they hadn’t brought their own.

The most recent decision the Council had come to was to reach out to the Nalquodians, who Daibazaal had been in conflict with for as long as Zarkon could remember. Most of the recent conflict had been restricted to trade wars and minor battles involving trade routes, but as it edged closer to some of Daibazaal’s outlying colonies, and the planets of their allies, Zarkon’s mother, Emperor Zavira, had been trying to find a solution. Since the Nalquodians—and their close allies, the Alteans—had accepted, a series of peace talks were scheduled to take place in the Dalterion Belt, and many members of the Council had been allowed to return to their personal estates.

As far as Zarkon was aware, only two clan heads remained in the capital city of Devon. Lord Keth of Clan Noverok, who Zarkon got along with immensely well, and Commander Rannag of Clan Kalrad, who Zarkon would sooner punt into the nearest star. Given the peace talks with the Nalquodians had been Lord Keth’s decision, Zarkon suspected that he had stuck around in the event the Emperor wanted him to lead the delegation to the Dalterion Belt. Commander Rannag had likely stuck around in order to vye for the honor to be bestowed upon him or his protege, Raveig, instead.

Zarkon couldn’t overlook how his mother had been staring at  _ him _ recently, though. It almost made him regret speaking up in support of making peace with the Nalquodians.

“Zarkon?” Kolivan prompted, their soft voice drawing him out of his thoughts—only then did Zarkon notice they had finally made it the entrance of the gardens. When he glanced down at them, he found that Kolivan’s brow was furrowed in concern. “Is something wrong?” they asked, tilting their head. “You haven’t spoken since we left your room.”

“Just thinking,” Zarkon reassured them, mirroring their soft tone as he leaned down, intending to butt their foreheads together—but Kolivan shied away from him, eyes narrowing in warning before they indicated in the direction of the far side of the gardens with their ears. 

Sitting there, at the base a rather large tree, was Lord Keth and his young cub, Thace. Zarkon felt his cheeks flush, but thankfully, Keth didn’t seem to have noticed either of them yet, more focused on his cub. Thace was sitting in their birthfather’s arms, seeming mistified by the butterflies that were fluttering about in the rising sun. One of the butterflies landed on Thace’s nose bridge, and the cub let out a soft coo, ears perking straight up. Keth let out a soft chuckle as his own ears twitched in amusement.

A gentle nudge to his forearm was Zarkon’s only warning before Kolivan quickly steered him past the hedges that sectioned off another, more private area of the gardens. Once they were out of sight of Keth, making their way deeper into the gardens, Kolivan slipped their hand into the crook of his arm before he even had the chance to offer it. Zarkon tilted his head back, a low hissing purr of contentment rising in his throat as he felt the sun on his face. Out here, there was privacy, and little chance of people stumbling across them—it almost felt like a retreat, a place they didn’t have to hide…

“Don’t get too comfortable, Your Highness,” Kolivan said, with a teasing edge to their voice. “Remember, your mother wants to see you in a couple of hours…”

Zarkon sighed heavily, ears drooping. “Do you have any idea what she wants to see me about?” he pressed, even though earlier they had seemed clueless. But then again, Kolivan always seemed to have at least some idea of what was going on around the palace. Half the time, this was because they happened to be too quiet for their own good, and their status as a guard allowed them to slip under notice.

“Perhaps she wants to ask for your opinion on who you think should lead the delegation to the Dalterion Belt?” Kolivan suggested, gaze flicking up to meet his. “It was  _ your  _ idea after all.”

“It was Lord Keth’s idea,” Zarkon retorted.

“It was your take on Lord Keth’s idea,” Kolivan said, ears drawing back in exasperation. “Have you considered the possibility that she might want you to head the delegation yourself?”

“I have…” he admitted, although the idea made him nervous beyond belief. 

Speaking with members of the Council or visiting dignitaries seemed  _ easy _ in comparison. At least he could read their body language, knew their customs. It was very difficult to offend someone here on Daibazaal unless he actually  _ intended _ to do so. He knew very little about the Nalquodians or Alteans outside of their battle strategies and the history of conflict between them and the Galra. His only other knowledge base consisted of rumors he wasn’t sure he could take seriously.

As far as Zarkon was aware, the Alteans hadn’t even reached out to try and stem conflict that had been raging for over a thousand years. The Nalquodians had made contact with the Galra later, but were already allied with the Alteans at the time, although the status of their alliance was up for debate. Some believed them to be little more than a colony, while others thought that perhaps they held some amount of power and sway with the Alteans.

Kolivan stopped walking then, and Zarkon peered at them curiously. They hesitated, and Zarkon noticed how the tips of their ears were twitching in a manner that betrayed their nervousness. “As the Prince of the Galra, you would be the perfect candidate to lead the delegation… you’ve been trained for this your entire life,” Kolivan reminded him as they stared up at him, brow knitting in concern. Their voice was little more than a low, soothing lilt, and the sound of it alone was enough to make Zarkon’s shoulders relax. He hadn’t even noticed how tense his own thoughts had made him…

“Your mother_ chose_ _you_ as her successor, Zarkon. That means she has faith in you and your abilities,” Kolivan continued. Then, their gaze softened again, concern melting away as they reached up to lightly stroke along his cheekbone. “And so do I…”

Zarkon leaned into the touch, smiling despite himself. “You have too much faith in me.”

Kolivan snorted, rolling their eyes in exasperation. Their gaze remained soft all the same. “I have just the right amount of faith in you, thank you,” they retorted. “I  _ know _ you can do this.”

Leaning down, Zarkon placed a gentle kiss on the red spot that sat in the middle of Kolivan’s forehead. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“Think nothing of it,” Kolivan said, slipping their hand back into the crook of his arm so they could continue their walk through the gardens. 

Eventually, arrived at the base of an ancient  _ polan _ tree, which had been on the palace grounds since long before Zarkon had even been born or his birthmother had assumed the throne. He and Kolivan had frequently climbed the tree as children when they were running around the palace grounds… it was also where they had shared their first kiss, hidden away from prying eyes.

“How has that new intern of yours been?” Zarkon asked, trying to strike up an amiable conversation as he sat down amongst the gnarled roots of the tree.

Kolivan sighed heavily as they plopped down beside him, clearly exasperated although they were trying to keep it at bay. From what Zarkon had heard from them, this new ‘intern’ was little more than a bright-eyed teenager. “He’s doing his best,” they said simply. “Energetic and  _ very _ eager to please… but he certainly has promise. I think he’ll go far.”

“Yet you sound annoyed,” Zarkon said teasingly.

“Because he won’t  _ leave me alone _ ,” Kolivan said in exasperation, looking beside themself as they held their face in their hands. “He’s like a baby yupper.”

Zarkon chuckled softly, unable to contain his smile. He reached out, lightly running his fingers over the white headfur that Kolivan had at the base of their neck. They glanced over their shoulder at him, but merely sighed and relaxed upon realizing he was just going to rebraid it for them. Carefully, he unfastened the hair ornament that was attached to the end of the braid, and handed it over to Kolivan when they held out their hand. He watched as Kolivan glanced down at the piece of jewelry, lightly running their thumb over the face of one of the dark purple gemstones.

“One day, I’ll buy you something better,” Zarkon promised.

Kolivan’s ears flicked in amusement. “Just don’t make it as ostentatious as Ranveig’s courting gifts,” they retorted, and Zarkon couldn’t hold back his laugh as he recalled several instances of Ranveig’s gifts—mostly gaudy jewelry that did not suit Kolivan in the slightest—being flung off the nearest balcony by Kolivan themself. “Besides,” they added, “I like this one.”

Zarkon hummed softly in response, but didn’t reply as he tried to focus on the task at hand. He had never been very good at braiding fur, seeing as he didn’t have any himself nor did either of his mothers. Most Galra from the province of Devon did not, due to the arid climate, and instead had hard keratin plates in place of fur. However, the Galra of Kolivan’s home province of Sitken all had fur similar to Kolivan’s—decently thick and meant to combat the chill of the temperate rainforests that covered the province’s landscape on the opposite side of the planet. Zarkon had only visited Sitken once, and he hadn’t enjoyed it very much… mostly due to the cold.

Kolivan remained silent as Zarkon continued braiding their fur, and they seemed to just be enjoying the breeze that was rolling through the gardens, judging by their contented sigh. Zarkon, on the other hand, was beginning to remember  _ why _ he didn’t braid headfur very often. He felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment when he realized that he had effectively left Kolivan’s headfur a knotted mess, and he hesitated to take the hair ornament back from Kolivan, even though they had offered it to him.

Sighing, Kolivan looked over their shoulder at him as their ears shifted back. “Did you tie my headfur into knots again?”

“Uh…” Zarkon cleared his throat awkwardly and smiled sheepishly as Kolivan’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe?”

“If all you’re going to do is tie it into knots, I might not let you touch my headfur ever again,” Kolivan said, although the teasing undertone to their voice made it clear they weren’t actually serious. Then, they start working on unknotting their headfur.

“What a travesty that would be,” Zarkon said with a snort, although he actually would’ve been a little upset if Kolivan said he wasn’t allowed to touch their headfur anymore—it was very fine and soft, not unlike cub fur. He watched them work without another word, merely enjoying sitting in their company.

Kolivan had just managed to work the last of the knots out when their comlink suddenly beeped. Ears perking, they reached for it and were quick to answer. “Yes?”

“ _ Commander _ !” a voice that sounded like an overly excited chirp came over the comlink—the ‘intern’ that Kolivan had been assigned then. “ _ Her Majesty wanted to know where her son was. She said she has to meet with him earlier than expected! _ ”

Zarkon didn’t miss how Kolivan’s ears drooped in disappointment—however, they didn’t let that disappointment leak into their tone at all. They were a far better actor than he was. “He’s here with me,” they said. “Please tell Her Majesty that we’ll be there as soon as possible.” As soon as they hung up, they stood and offered Zarkon their hand, hoisting him up to his feet when he took it. 

“Come on,” was all they said.

Zarkon almost wanted to argue—surely his mother could’ve just met with him later if something important had come up—but he knew he was already pushing it. Someone would likely come hunting for him if neither of them showed up, and it could potentially reflect badly on Kolivan. So instead, he followed Kolivan out of the gardens, watching as they quickly braided their hair and then motioned to take the hair ornament back from him so they could attach it to the end.

At the entrance to the gardens, Keth was still sitting at the base of the tree. This time, however, he noticed them, and raised one of Thace’s tiny hands to wave at them, much to the cub’s delight. Zarkon was quick to wave back, smiling at both of them, and he noticed Kolivan had done the same before ducking beneath the veranda that covered the walkways hugging the outer walls of the palace. Zarkon was quick to follow.

They walked in silence, much like before. Zarkon almost wanted to strike up a conversation, but his anxiety about what his mother wanted to ask him about had come crawling back. However, this time it was more muted—he supposed he had Kolivan to thank for that. As they neared the throne room, however, Zarkon found his anxiety was replaced by annoyance and thinly veiled anger. 

Ranveig was standing there with his uncle, Rannag. They were muttering softly to one another, glancing over at the large double doors that led into the throne room. Zarkon supposed they must have just left a meeting with his mother—or were perhaps waiting their turn. When they noticed they were no longer alone, however, their conversation stopped completely. Neither of them seemed to be any happier to see him than he was to see them.

“Good morning,  _ Your Highness _ ,” Rannag said, hissing Zarkon’s title through his teeth. 

Zarkon didn’t rise to the bait—he had several times in the past, only to be scolded by his mother for it. “Commander Rannag,” he said simply, dipping his head respectfully without breaking his stride.

Ranveig didn’t even bother to greet him at all. Instead, his gaze was locked onto Kolivan, leering at them as he often did.

Kolivan kept their gaze trained straight ahead, purposefully avoiding Ranveig’s gaze—as Zarkon and Kolivan passed the two, however, Kolivan moved their braid of their shoulder, more prominently displaying the hair ornament that marked them as being courted. Zarkon didn’t miss the thinly veiled anger in Ranveig’s eyes at the sight of it. If the circumstance had been different—if Rannag hadn’t been standing there—Zarkon had no doubts that Kolivan would have told Ranveig off to remind him verbally that they were already being courted by someone and had no interest in taking on a second partner right now… 

But Rannag had never made his distaste for Kolivan’s mouthiness a secret. Zarkon suspected that Rannag just didn’t like that someone from a no-name clan and a backwater province was smarter than he was and didn’t have any qualms with reminding him of that.

Once they were beyond the safety of the doors, Zarkon glanced down at Kolivan and found their ears had pinned back in unease. While he wanted to stop walking, dip his head to nuzzle them, perhaps kiss their forehead like he had done earlier… his mother was sitting on the throne less than thirty feet from them, watching them as they approached the steps of the dais.

“Are you alright?” he asked instead, voice little more than a whisper.

Kolivan glanced up at him, seeming surprised, as if they had forgotten he was standing there. They merely nodded, however, saying nothing in response… but it was enough to put them at ease again.

“Zarkon,” Zavira said, smiling warmly at both of them as they stopped at the bottom of the steps. “I know it’s earlier than you were expecting…”

“Kolivan made sure I was up bright and early, Mother,” Zarkon said, returning her smile. “Now, what did you need to speak to me about?”

Zavira hesitated for a moment—it was very much unlike his mother. She always seemed to have her thoughts laid out concisely in front of her, knew exactly what she was going to say long before she said it. “You know that our delegation for the peace conference still lacks a leader,” she finally said, although Zarkon found he wasn’t as terrified of hearing her say it as he thought he might’ve been before that morning. She was watching him carefully, as if she was expecting him to argue with her.

“Your mother and I discussed it,” Zavira continued. “She agreed with me that you would make a fine candidate.”

His bloodmother was nowhere to be seen in the throne room—and her seat in the smaller, less ornate throne beside Zavira’s was empty—but she was likely elsewhere in the palace. Zavira continued watching him expectantly, and Zarkon realized she was going to want an answer  _ now _ , rather than later. He wouldn’t have a chance to think this over on his own time, even if he felt he needed it.

Zarkon let out a shaky breath, glancing beside him to where Kolivan was standing. While they had yet to speak, Zarkon found that they were watching him with their head tilted to the side. Then, they gave him an encouraging smile. Only then did he turn his gaze back on his mother, and nodded.

“Excellent,” Zavira said, practically beaming. “You’ll take the  _ Ashara _ .”

Zarkon wasn’t surprised that his mother had chosen the ship that was named after his bloodmother. It was one of the nicest ships in the entire Imperial fleet, outfitted with a wide variety of amenities in order to ensure the comfort of those travelling on it.

“That is a light cruiser,” Kolivan spoke up. A frown had worked its way onto their features. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, the  _ Ashara _ might not be the best choice. It’s a diplomatic vessel, it has minimal weaponry. What will we do if the negotiations turn sour?”

“Ah, but it has the best shields out of any of my personal ships,” Zavira pointed out calmly. Judging by how her headplates fluttered, she was pleased—and perhaps at least a little bit amused—that Kolivan had decided to speak up. “Besides, what would the Nalquodians think if you showed up in a fully outfitted battle cruiser?”

Kolivan snorted, their ears flicking in irritation. “They would likely shoot us on sight…” they muttered. Then, they nodded curtly in agreement. “Who is leading the security detail?”

“You,” Zavira said simply, leaning her chin against her laced fingers. “I have already chosen the Galra representatives who will be accompanying my son… but you are free to pick any members of the Royal Guard that you see fit.”

Kolivan’s surprise lasted for only a moment—just long enough for Zarkon to catch it—before they respectfully dipped their head. They said nothing else and moved to step back, likely to begin mulling over their own decision while Zarkon and his mother finished their chat.

“Dare I ask who you have chosen?” Zarkon asked, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest and keep his body language open to show his mother he was still interested in the conversation. He could already think of at least two people who  _ might _ have been selected, and the idea of that caused irritation to settle into the pit of his gut.

“Lord Keth, for starters,” Zavira said and the corner of her mouth quirked upwards fondly. “He speaks very highly of you… I know he’ll take good care of you if you ever find yourself struggling. And of course, little Thace will be joining him.”

Zarkon nodded, feeling his spirits lift just a touch at the knowledge that Lord Keth would be there. He would be certain to listen to Lord Keth’s advice whenever he offered it.

“Commander Norok of Clan Myvoknera will also be attending,” Zavira continued. “Along with his cub, Throk.”

Clan Myvoknera was perhaps one of the most influential clans in the entire Empire, an utter juggernaut of the Royal Council. It was of little surprise that they had managed to sneak a member of their clan in on these peace negotiations. However, Zarkon was surprised that it wasn’t the clan head, Rashiik, who was going in place of her spouse.

“Is there anybody else?” Zarkon prompted, although he already knew the answer.

“Captain Ranveig,” Zavira said. She didn’t appear to be any more pleased by the idea than he was. Nevertheless, she leveled him with a stern look. “Ensure that you behave yourself, and don’t rise to any bait he hangs in front of you… I won’t be there to smooth over any messes you get yourself into.”

Zarkon swallowed thickly, but nodded nonetheless. He would do everything in his power to ensure he didn’t somehow mess up and send Daibazaal into another all out war with the Nalquodians or the Alteans…

—

The next couple of days were a flurry of activity as Zarkon prepared for the journey to the Dalterion Belt. Kolivan had remained with him throughout the entire process, although they had been busy with their own duties as well. Standing in the shadow of the IGRC-L  _ Ashara _ now only made Zarkon antsy to leave, and as soon as the last stragglers arrived, they would.

Right now, they were only waiting on Lord Keth and one of the guards at this point. Zarkon was patient, but others were not.

“What is taking them so long?” Commander Norok hissed through his teeth. His words were directed at Ranveig than anybody else. While Norok was normally more respectful—if a bit intense to deal with—Zarkon suspected that his young cub’s seemingly boundless energy was beginning to try his patience. Throk had been trying to wriggle out of his birthfather’s arms since they had arrived, seeming eager to explore the docking area.

“We should have left nearly an hour ago,” Norok continued as he adjusted how he was holding his cub, and Throk let out a displeased squeak as his latest attempt at escaping was thwarted.

“Do you have no patience, my Lord?” Kolivan cut in as they passed by Zarkon, standing close enough that their shoulder brushed against Zarkon’s arm. Their voice came out augmented, with a heavy metallic undertone, due to their mask being in place over their face. 

Still, it brought ease to Zarkon’s shoulders regardless, and he found his gaze moving away from the steps that led back up to the palace to look at Kolivan instead.

“Lieutenant Evren informed me that she and Lord Keth will be running a little late,” Kolivan explained simply, still looking at Norok. “They should be here within a half hour.”

Norok frowned deeply and his large ears pinned back in embarrassment, but he said nothing and turned his attention back to his cub. Ranveig didn’t look very amused either.

Zarkon’s ears flicked curiously as Kolivan turned their attention back to the datapad they held in their hands. Dipping his head, Zarkon dropped his voice to a whisper, so that only Kolivan could hear. “Why are they late?” he asked in confusion—it wasn’t like Lord Keth to be late…

“Because Antok—Evren’s cub—was collecting stuff in his pouch that he wanted to bring,” Kolivan informed him, speaking just as softly.

“His… pouch?” Zarkon asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“He’s half-Leonis,” Kolivan said simply, not looking up from their datapad. “Evren recently adopted him after he took a liking to her.”

To any onlookers, it might have appeared they were discussing important matters, rather than Zarkon curiously asking about the third cub that would apparently being joining their delegation.

Zarkon hummed softly in understanding. If the cub had chosen Evren—making her a foundmother—then it wouldn’t do to separate them on such short notice. Some would have even viewed it as extremely cruel, especially if the cub was young. “Three cubs at the peace talks, then,” Zarkon said, brow furrowing in concern.

“The cubs will behave,” Kolivan said as they glanced up at him. Their masked flickered away, revealing their face and the amused quirk of their lips—however, their hood hid their expression from any onlookers. “It’s the Nalquodians and their Altean tagalong that I have my doubts on.”

“Kolivan,” Zarkon said, trying his best to sound stern, but when Kolivan rolled their eyes and waved him off, he had to fight back a back of laughter. “Be nice!”

“I’ll be nice if they’re nice in return,” Kolivan retorted, their voice retaking its metallic undertone as their mask reappeared over their face.


End file.
